


Scars Run Deep

by KieraRutherford



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Short work, a trial run in short writing pieces, angsty, enjoy, please, since I usually write full on novels, something to fill the space, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-12 12:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieraRutherford/pseuds/KieraRutherford
Summary: Short piece that falls just after the battle at the Shrine of Dumat when Kiera Lavellan goes after Samson with Cullen. Slightly off canon, little poetic license. Bit of angst, some talk of blood.I don't own any of the characters, or have the rights to them. They belong exclusively to Bioware and this writing piece is simply for enjoyment. Thank you!





	1. Chapter 1

She hissed as he pulled the bandage tight across her rib cage, the large gash still raw and oozing even after Dorian’s attempt at healing her, “I am sorry Inquisitor, it must be tight to help knit the skin together. I wish it could be different but you leave me no choice,” he grunted back giving the cotton fabric a firm, final tug. His brow knit in clear frustration, “you could have died back there if not for Bull’s quick reactions. You are being careless!” he snarled between gritted teeth as he tied off the ends.

“Despite what many think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself,” she shot back at him, venom equally as hot and visceral as his snarl, “I had the voided bastard, I was concerned I’d would have gotten Bull in the blast,” she huffed tugging her robe back down over the bandages, what little robe there was left.The entire right side was nothing but a gapping hole of tattered fabric, barely held together by fraying, burnt ends.

“You were careless, and next time Bull might not be there to save you,” his scowl lifted as the words dripped from his lips a wash of anger and fear, “Samson… never mind,” he rose from the side of the cot and without another word disappeared through the flaps of the tent.

“Shit!” she cursed low on her lips. She hadn’t meant to be so sharp with him. She knew his anger was stemmed from so much. Too much going on right now. She reached down and touched her side, blood slowly seeping into the bandages. As she pulled her hand up to her face the tent flaps opened.

“My dear Kiera, you’ve gone and upset him now haven’t you,” Dorian sighed, reaching for her side, his hand glowing with healing magics, “clubbing him over the head would have been kinder.”

She sucked in a deep breath as the skin knit together and the wound began to slowly close up under the bandage, “how is he? I’ve made a terrible mistake haven’t I?”

“He’s stormed off back towards Samson’s keep. Sword in hand. I’d say you’ve made quite the impression. Don’t fret,” he shook his head, “I sent Bull to follow him. The fool is going to search the area for red templars. I’m assuming he desires to stab something that deserves it.”

Kiera sighed and hung her head as Dorian continued to work away. After several moments of silence Dorian looked up, “my dear, rest. He’s done well enough with this and I have done all I can for now,” he rose from her side turning once back to her before leaving, “we at least have Maddox’s tools. If our dear little Dagna can work her miracles we’ll stop Samson yet. Get some rest, we’ll leave when you are able,” he walked out the tent.

Kiera gave a sigh, running her fingers over the bandage, feeling the heat from the wound and the pulsing of her heart flutter through. She had made a mess of things, and only after speaking her affections for him not but a week ago. She was being foolish. She had let her guard down when she looked over, too concerned about Cullen. She shook her head, he was a well trained man she should have known better. He could handle the two templars easily enough. In the moment she panicked trying to reach him, the red templar caught her. She knew she was lucky to have twisted just enough out of the way. All while Cullen watched helplessly. Her eyes started to sting as she laid down on the cot. She had put him through this. Could he stand to be with her… she started sobbing as the rain began to softly pebble the tent around her.


	2. I Can't....

It took them a week of hard riding to get back to Skyhold, for nearly the entire journey it rained. Between bouts of wet down pours and her own sullen mood there was little conversation from Kiera. She had wounded Cullen and between her own self absorbed internal beatings and the distance he put between them she felt at her wits end. By the time they rode up to the stone gates of Skyhold Kiera was seething with rage. How dare he treat her with such distain? How dare he scold her like a child? She stormed past her party and marched straight to her quarters, intent on washing and changing clothes. The long gash up her side had mostly healed and left behind a long, deep, pocked scab. It was a reminder of his anger, his voice as he tightened the bandage across her ribs.

In a fury she hurled her staff across her quarters, but it did little to temper her rage. Throwing the doors of her balcony wide she let out a deep growling scream. Letting all the anger drain out as her pained voice echoed in the valley back up at her. She didn’t care, didn’t even bother thinking about who would hear or what they would think. No instead she slumped down against the rail, drawing in slow, deep breaths. She heard the latch to her door open, and she bolted straight up, “out, just get out,” she grunted, not bothering to look up to see who it was.

“Well, perish the thought I interrupt the great Inquisitor’s temper tantrum,” Dorian scoffed, folding his arms tightly about his chest, “and here I thought your mood might improve once we returned.” He leaned against the rail at the top of the stairs, not budging an inch.

“Dorian,” she lifted her head up and cocked it to the side, “I am in no mood for anything at this moment. Please, if you don’t want to be my verbal training dummy, I recommend you leave,” she paced over to the large desks, flipping through papers in a vain attempt to steady her shaking hands.

Dorian perked his eyebrow up, “come now. I am your friend. I came here to see to your pain. I need to undo that bandage,” he straightened himself up and took a couple bold steps forward, carefully watching her reactions, “you are clearly more than a bit upset and I’d dare go as far as to say it involves a certain ex-templar.”

She stiffened at his comment, “Dorian… please..” she held her hand up, her eyes stinging with tears she struggled to hold back, “I can’t…”

“Maker’s ball woman!” he snorted as he reached her side, “you two need some time to cool down and things will be as they were. You are making a mountain out of a nug hump.”

Pulling her robe over her head she tossed the tattered material into her fireplace, “just, get this over with. I am not ‘cool’ enough,” she turned to allow Dorian access to the bandages. They clung to her skin and several times she let out a whimper as Dorian fought to remove them. Dried blood, sweat and grime caked to her once pale skin, “far as I can see there is no infection and it has healed well. Cullen did well bandaging this, I’ll have to thank him. He’s made my work much easier.”

Rolling her eyes she spat out the words, “I’m sure he would have preferred them tighter.”

Letting out a strangled huff Dorian, yanked free the last bit of bandage, earning a sharp yelp from her throat, “you two are impossible!”


	3. Business As Usual

Cullen stood firm at his position about the war room table, scanning over reports as Leliana and Josephine bantered back and forth over progress in Orlais. There was a visceral fog of tension between Cullen and Kiera. She refused to look at him unless he was making a request or discussing business. The sound of his voice was empty and he appeared as if he hadn’t slept in some time.

“Any word from Dagna as to the progress with Maddox’s tool?” Josephine chimed over to Cullen as she feverishly scribbled her quill against her stack of papers.

“Not as of yet. I am just relieved she hasn’t blown up half of Skyhold experimenting with red lyrium. Dorian has assured me her experiments are safe,” he picked up another missive off the table, bringing it up to his face to avoid looking over at Kiera.

“If there is nothing else, I have something I need to take care of,” Kiera’s voice was sharp and snapped through the tension like a bull whip.

“No Inquisitor, there is nothing further. I will have a messenger sent to you once we receive word of your clan,” Leliana’s voice chimed about the stone walls, bringing a sweet innocence to thick sheet of tension between them.

As Cullen looked up from his reading to speak he watched Kiera pace out of the doors, “Maker’s breath,” he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Have you not spoken to her since your return?” Josephine stopped writing for a moment, directing her full attention at Cullen.

With a huff he set the missive on the table, “no. The journey and events of the Shrine were, unpleasant.”

Leliana carefully walked over to him, bringing her voice low, “Commander, you two were in such high spirits before the trip and I have read the reports, perhaps you were too harsh on her. You should seek her out, speak with her. This cloud between you two is,” she paused catching Josephine’s eye, a subtle nod between the two, “all wrong.”

Cullen’s brow knit together tightly in a deep set grimace, “I do not think it will be so simple as that. I was, unkind,” he let out a sigh, “more so than I should have been.”

“You won’t know till you try Commander,” Josephine smiled, penning down something new upon her stack of parchment.

Reaching up to his neck he gave it a firm squeeze, “I shall think upon this further, excuse me,” without another thought he marched out of the war room. As he made his way out of Josephine’s office he took a brief glimpse over at the door to Kiera’s room, giving a firm shake of his head he marched off towards his tower.


	4. Biting Back

Her finger tips itched with the snapping of electric energy dancing at her nail beds, “damnit, I can’t tolerate this anymore,” she slammed her fist into the training dummy beside Cassandra, “am I a fool for all this? Perhaps I was blind,” she bit down hard on her tongue trying to stop the emotions from flowing over.

“Inquisitor, friend, please,” Cassandra’s voice was soft, unlike her usual hardened tone, “go, speak to him. Perhaps this is all a misunderstanding. If you were to clear the air with him then you would feel better,” her hand laid gently upon Kiera’s shoulder as she spoke, “he cares for you deeply, or this would not have affected him so.”

Letting her hand drop from the dummy’s face Kiera shrugged, “I walk into death daily, you’ve seen it. I need comfort, peace when I have a moment to enjoy it. Does he not see this? I am not some delicate wall flower to be kept under some glass jar!” Again the air around her snapped with energy as she sent a bolt of lightning through the training dummy, splitting it in half, “damnit Cassandra! Damnit all!”

Clenching her jaw tightly, Cassandra folded her arms firmly across her chest, “before you destroy every training dummy in Skyhold, go speak with him,” Kiera attempted to protest, but Cassandra lifted her hand up before her, “Deal. With. It.”

Half nodding in agreement and half conceding to her Kiera took a step back, “fine, but I can’t promise anything will change.”

Cassandra let out a snorting chuckle, “it is better than this,” she waved her hand over the burned, frozen and electrified remains of several straw dummies, “Ser Morris is going to have a fit.”

Hanging her head with a huff Kiera set her staff against the dummy, “I’m sorry Cass, I’ll make up for it,” pulling her coin purse from her belt she passed it to Cassandra, “see that he gets this to go towards replacing my rage targets. I’ll go deal with my, it, now,” she chuckled weakly taking a step towards Cullen’s tower. It’s shadow looming down over her suddenly made her nervous. Drawing in a deep breath she trudged up the stone steps beside the tavern. Each step seemed to be harder than the last as she climbed. Finally reaching the side door to his tower, she froze in place. What would she say? How would she get across how she felt? How she had been feeling all these days. She groaned under her breath as she knocked on the heavy wooden door.

“Enter,” his voice was rough, and came out thick with sleep. Possibly lack of sleep, she cocked her eyebrow as she carefully opened the door. He was sitting at his desk. His neatly combed hair, a mess of loose curls, bags under his eyes, his finger tips stained in deep black ink. Her eyes flew open, “Cullen!” she gasped bringing her hand to cover her mouth, shocked and stunned by his appearance.

“Inquisitor,” he went to rise up and nearly tumbled over with the effort, “I did not expect you to come by.”


	5. Deal. With. It

“What in the name of Andraste have you done to  
yourself?” she half shrieked rushing over to his side.

“I am fine, it’s nothing,” he raised his hand to wave her off, “you came by. What do you require of me?” his tone was flat, eyes glazed over.

“Damnit,” she felt the rage bubbling up under the surface, too raw, too powerful to ignore, “you scream at me for being careless and here you are working yourself into a damn grave!” she threw her hands up at him, slamming them down on his desk, “what is wrong with you!”

Cullen’s eyes shot open wide, “Maker what?” he struggled to keep up with her line of thought as she paced the room before him. Within a moment he knew what she was referring to, “Inquisitor, you nearly died not paying attention in battle. A few sleepless nights to ensure supplies and fortifications of the Inquisition is not the same thing. I am expendable, unlike you,” his scarred lip arched up in a half snarl as he ran his hand through his hair, attempting to return order to his chaos.

“Expendable?” she was shouting now, “expendable? Since when?” she stopped in her spot across the desk from him, “the void you are expendable!”

“I cannot seal rifts, and though I manage the army and it’s coordinating efforts, another can take on my tasks,” he didn’t look up at her as he began smoothing away the frayed curls about the edges of his face, “so yes I am expendable.”

She felt like her blood was on fire, rage burning like a thousand fires lit every nerve in her body. In an instance she crossed the small gap between them, and with a firm swat of her hand she slapped Cullen straight across the face, “you bastard! You aren’t expendable to me!” tears flowed down her cheeks, as she seethed, unable to speak further she turned and raced out the door, slamming it shut behind her with everything she had. 

Cullen stood for a moment, his hand clutched tightly against his face the sting setting in. Surely his cheek would be red and was already beginning to welt up. Every fiber in him screamed at him to chase her down, screamed at him to follow her but the voice of reasoning in his mind spoke loudly and clearly, ‘she needs time to breath, to rush in now would only further provoke her.’ Letting a long breath he slumped back down in his chair. What a mess I’ve created, he thought to himself as his cheek throbbed and stung. 

She raced without stopping all the way to her quarters, throwing herself upon her bed. Tears that kept coming, violent and hot. Throwing her face into her pillow she screamed long and as hard as she could. Screaming till her throat burned and her voice no longer came. 


	6. It's Only Words

Sitting on the couch she picked up her lute and carelessly plucking away at the strings. Remembering the songs her clan would sing by the camp fire late at night when no one could sleep. So focused on the tunes and words coming freely as she leaned back on the couch, eyes closed she missed the sound of the latch. Songs of forlorn lovers kept apart by fate, driven back together by desire and the strength to overcome, it made her feel at peace. The first bit of peace she’d felt since before they had set off for the Shrine.

“You have a beautiful voice,” Cullen’s voice broke her focus and she nearly jumped off the couch.

“Cullen!” she shrieked, pulling the lute in tight to her chest, “what are you doing here?”

Rubbing his neck roughly, he choked on his words, “I thought about what you said yesterday,” he drew in a slow, pained breath, “I am so sorry.”

Relaxing only slightly she sat up, “do you understand? Do you know what this means to me? What you mean to me?” 

The words stabbed at his chest and he felt like his knees would give beneath them, “please, I.. I never expected any of this. Never could have hoped for any of this. To find someone who.. to find you, here. It seemed too much to be true,” he took a step forward and carefully lowered himself onto the couch beside her, “I… what happened at the Shrine..” the words stuck tight in his throat, threatening to choke the life from his form. 

She could see his struggle, the pained expression of desperation inked upon his face, “Cullen,” his name came soft as the falling snow just outside of her window, even though her throat burned with each effort, “please.”

Cullen reached over at the steaming tea cup on the table and passed it to her, “don’t strain yourself, please, not on my account.”

Her eyes flashed with tinges of pain and anger at his words, “Cullen,” she took in a sip, giving herself a second to compose herself, “I can’t do this. I can’t have my only safe place, only bit of comfort bringing me pain.”

Cullen sat back straight in his seat, “are you,” he held his breath for a moment, “are you calling this off?”


	7. Never More

“Is that what you want?” she clapped back  
at him, holding the lute between them tightly to her chest, “will that make things better?” tears began to form in her eyes, burning hot, her jaw clenched tight.

“No, Maker no!” he nearly shot up off the couch, “what would make you think such things? Have I caused you to think such?!”

She sat there, unable to speak as she looked him over. Watching his every movement, and silently struggling to find the words, “would it make my death easier for you?” the tears slowly trickled down her cheeks as the wood of the lute began to creak under the pressure she was exerting upon it’s hollow body.

Cullen choked on his own air, letting out a string of violent coughs before finally getting control of himself, “Maker what?!”

“I walk into danger every day. I am the Inquisitor. If it isn’t Corypheus and his damned red lyrium induced freaks trying to murder me, the Orlesian court is trying to do away with everything,” she relaxed her grip on the lute slightly, “I am never safe. When I come back here to Skyhold, to my home, I want to come home to something worth trying for. Something worth living for. Other than this,” she held up her glowing hand, a look of pure disgust painted thick upon her face, “this is all everyone wants. No one, before you cared about me, for me. Saw the woman behind this, freak show,” she let her hand fall upon her lap as she drew in a deep breath, “you have been the only thing keeping me grounded. Without you..” her voice croaked out as her throat tightened around the words. 

Sitting awe struck he fumbled trying to find the words to say, “Inqu… Kiera, ” his voice was soothing, soft as he reached out and carefully took the lute from her, placing it on the table behind him, “I am sorry. Sorry for the harsh way I have treated you. I was afraid to lose you and I see now I nearly did. Please, forgive me. I never meant to cause you such pain.” He reached out and drew her up into his arms tightly, “please say you forgive me.”

Kiera sobbed heavily against his chest, snaking her arms around him and squeezing him tightly against her body, “Cullen…”

“Hush now,” he carefully ran his hand through her long black hair, “there will be time to talk when you are ready to. I promise you, I will try harder, I will be better. For you, for us.”


End file.
